


Count Me In

by littlefrog1025



Series: domestic!Stucky [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dirty Talk, Eloping, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marking, Mirror Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Wedding, Wedding Night, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefrog1025/pseuds/littlefrog1025
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Planning a wedding is nowhere near as fun as it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Count Me In

**Author's Note:**

> A flashback/companion fic to HERE'S TO US. 
> 
> Enjoy! And feel free to leave comments!

* * *

Bucky walks through the door exhausted, covered in grease stains and smelling of beef, to find Steve being fitted for a suit by a small, balding man as Natasha looks on. There’s various strips of fabric all over the place. Along with four 3-piece suits, wedding magazines, and catalog binders.

“Ah! Good. Just the groom I wanted to see. Strip,” Natasha tells Bucky.

“Uh…excuse me?”

“Strip. Take off your clothes. We need to fit you for a suit.”

“I have a suit,” he tells her.

“You mean that hideous brown thing that looks like it’s only for funerals? Yeah, Steve showed me. You’re not wearing that to get married in. Hence, Louis here,” she says pointing to the short, bald guy with the tape measure around his neck.

Louis gives Bucky a polite smile and a wave as he measures the inseam of Steve’s legs.

Bucky catches Steve’s eye. The blonde shrugs and continues going along with the personal fitting.

“Natasha—”

Her cellphone rings. She answers. “Hello…?” She points to the phone at her ear, mouthing: _“It’s the caterers,”_ before disappearing into their bedroom.

“Steve—”

Steve’s cellphone rings now. He grabs it off the sofa behind him. “It’s the florist. I got to take this. Excuse me, Louis.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve wanders to a corner near the window of their apartment, speaking low on his cell.

Bucky sighs, scrubbing his hands down his face. He’s beat. He wants a shower and a long nap. But it appears that’s not going to happen any time soon.

He nearly trips over Natasha’s giant wedding binder as he makes his way to an [armchair](http://www.houzz.com/photos/322558/Jane-Kim-Design-industrial-family-room). He flops down and picks up the heavy binder.

Natasha is detailed, he’ll give her that. She has everything itemized by function, business info and price— _Two grand for a photographer?!_ _A live band_ _and_ _a DJ?! What the hell are Welcome Bags?!_

“Steve! The caterers said they’ll do the cake for $2,500 instead of $3,000,” Natasha shouts from the other room, sounding pleased.

“Nice,” Steve says with a grin, still on the phone with the florist.

_They think that’s a deal?!_

Bucky looks over to Louis who’s playing around with fabric swatches.

“And how much do you cost?”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“The suits. How much?”

“Oh, well, uh, for a big man like Mr. Rogers, and given the custom and style Ms. Romonov suggested, I’d say, about…roughly $2,000, sir.”

Bucky is going to have a heart attack.

Bucky’s own cellphone vibrates in his pocket.

It’s his mother. Asking him for the third time today about making sure to invite some distant relative he’s never met to the wedding. _His_ wedding.

It’s bad enough his sister, Rebecca, keeps trying to convince he and Steve to get married at her Episcopal church in Rochester, but now he has to deal with arguing with his mother over the guests list.

Steve ends his call with the florist and crosses the room toward Bucky.

“Stevie, baby, look—”

Steve’s not really paying attention to Bucky as he grabs the binder off his lap and scribbles something inside. “Sorry about that Louis,” he says, dropping the binder back into Bucky’s lap. “Let’s finish up so Bucky can start on his fitting soon.”

Bucky looks in the binder at what Steve wrote: _Five grand for flowers?! With a 25% deposit?!_

Make that an aneurysm instead of a heart attack.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, Buck,” he responds, arms out as Louis measures his bicep.

“I—”

 _Goddamit_. Bucky’s cellphone vibrates again.

 **Jim** : Is Gabe seriously your best man?!

 **Gabe** : Heads up. Jim’s all pissy you made me your best man.

 **Dum Dum** : Are there going to be any single women at this wedding? I assumed there would be given it’s, you know, a gay wedding.

 **Jacques** : Bachelor party! When? You come to Paris and we drink all night!

 **Gabe** : Heads up. Jack keeps asking about the bachelor party…and sending me pics of girls doing questionable things with donkeys…

 **Jim** : I just want to know why I wasn’t asked is all.

 

 **Dum Dum** : Your sister Grace is single, right?

 **Dum Dum** : I mean, I could have sworn you said she broke up with that law student she was seeing…

 

 **Jim** : I love Gabe. You know I love Gabe, but I wasn’t even asked, dude!

 **Jim** : I’d make a killer best man!

 **Jim** : I was my brother’s best man and I was awesome!

 **Jim** : And I don’t even like that asshole, or my bitch of a sister-in-law!

 

 **Jacques** : Have you ever been to Bangkok?

 **Jacques** : We’ll go to a bar. The Super Pussy.

 **Jacques** : ;)

 

 **Gabe** : I just Wikipedia’d The Super Pussy. SAY. NO.

 **Dum Dum** : What about that red head? Steve’s friend with the nice tits.

 **Jim** : What’s The Super Pussy, and why do you want to go? Nothing good comes out of Thailand, dude.

 

 **Monty** : I am no going anywhere called The Super Pussy!

 **Monty** : Plus, I’m no longer allowed in Thailand.

 **Monty** : Long story.

 

 **Peggy** : Can’t reach Steve. Tell him I’m bringing Monty as my “date.”

 **Peggy** : I can’t stand the idea of his horrible friend, Tony, hitting on me the entire weekend.

 

 **Dum Dum** : What about that girl in the band? Steve’s friend, Wanda or something. Is she coming?

 **Gabe** : I need Jack to lose my number.

 **Jim** : I’ll give you a hundred bucks to make me your best man.

Bucky throws his phone on the coffee table with a loud, aching groan.

“Bucky. Are you okay,” Steve asks, concerned.

“Alright, so I got the vegetarian option sorted out, and the bartender will only make mixed drinks during the cocktail hour. During the reception it’ll be just wine, beer, and the champagne toast.”

Bucky can’t even imagine how much all of that’ll cost. But knowing Natasha, it’s an arm and a leg.

“You know I’m a chef, right? I can make the food for the reception.”

“It’s your wedding day, Bucky. You can’t cook on your wedding day.” She’s not even bothering to look at him as she taps away on her iPhone.

“I have a staff, Nat.”

“And so does Helmut Zemo.”

“Helmut Zemo?! You booked Helmut Zemo to cater my wedding?!”

“Oh, no,” Steve practically gasps.

“Is there something wrong with Helmut Zemo,” Natasha asks innocently.

“Bucky hates hi—”

“I _hate_ him! He’s the fucking worst! He’s not a chef. He’s an over-hyped, scullery maid that can barely boil water.”

“That food critic, Zola, said he was a master chef that makes ‘food for the gods’.”

“Zola is a troll. Figuratively and literally. He gets paid off by hacks to give glowing reviews in his articles. Everyone in the food world knows that, and they know Zemo pays top dollar for all those kind words. Call him back and tell him to fuck off.”

“But I just sent him a $3,000 deposit, Bucky!”

“What?! Why in the hell is the deposit that much?!”

“Because it’s Helmut-freaking-Zemo, and he’s catering a wedding for 200 people!”

Even Steve’s head whips like lightening at Natasha.

“Since when have the 50 people Steve and I invited jumped to 200 people? How? Why?”

“Your mothers. They keep calling me with names of people that should be invited. They said it was okay with you guys,” she shrugs.

Bucky jumps up from his chair. “That’s it! Out!”

“Bucky,” Steve exclaims at him rudely telling Natasha to go.

“You, too, Louis. Out. Go.”

He grabs Natasha’s binder and her coat, handing them to her.

“Bucky, are you kidding me right now,” Natasha asks, eyebrow raised in a murderous tone.

“Nope. I can’t do this.” He grabs Louis’ mock suits and fabric swatches, pushing them into the flabbergasted man’s chest.

Steve gives them both apologetic frowns and politely hands Louis his garment bags and suitcase.

Natasha leaves in a huff, and the tailor follows after her. Steve closes the door, leaving he and Bucky alone.

“ **James Buchanan Barnes**.”

“Steve, I can’t do this.”

Steve turns stock still. Frozen in place. “…What?”

“I love you, but I can not handle all this. I’m sorry.”

“What… What do you mean, Bucky?”

Bucky closes the gap between them, taking Steve’s hand, bringing him to the couch. Steve sits down, and Bucky sits across from him atop the coffee table.

“Stevie. I love you.”

“…I love you, too, Buck.”

“But all this, is too much. I don’t want this.”

Steve’s eyes fill with tears. His mouth opens and closes, attempting to say something, but the words never come. He ducks his head, nodding.

“I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I just don’t want to do it like this. This whole thing has gotten out of control and beyond expensive. I mean, we both do alright, but for God sake’s, Stevie, I’m not rich like Tony. I got one restaurant right now, and it does good and all, but three thousand for a cake is nuts!”

“I know, Bucky, but…” He sniffles, wiping the fallen tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “But do you have to call the whole thing off because of it? Can’t… Can’t we still get married and pull back on some stuff?”

“What? …You think I don’t want to marry you anymore…? Oh, shit, baby, no. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m so sorry.” Bucky wipes away Steve’s tears with his sleeve. “I love you, punk. You’re going to spend the rest of your life with me, if I have anything to say about it.”

“I thought—”

“You thought wrong. I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not either. It’s the wedding I’m talking about. Not you.”

“So…you want to be together, just not married,” Steve asks, confused.

“No. I want to marry you. I asked you for a reason, Steve. I just can’t do this. All the crazy. Your ma and my ma and bachelor parties and flowers that cost as much as our rent. Steve, I want you. Just you.”

“I want just you, too, Bucky.”

“Then… Then let’s get out of here. Let’s just go away and get married.”

Steve chuckles. “What? Like Vegas?”

“No. You’re better than Vegas.”

Steve laughs.

“I got an idea. Something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

“How long have you been thinking about eloping? Why didn’t you tell me this was getting to be too much? You should have said something,” Steve asks.

“I know. I didn’t because you wanted it, and I only want to make you happy.”

“Bucky, I want whatever you want! If you’re happy then I’m happy. Idiot.”

Bucky laughs. Yeah, he guesses he is an idiot. He could have told Steve all the wedding planning and the cost were keeping him up at night. He could have saved himself a meltdown and Steve being scared Bucky was ending things with him.

They’ve only been engaged for 4 months, but since the beginning, when they announced it to everyone, they’ve lost control of the whole thing to well-meaning friends and pushy family.

Bucky knew it could get out of hand like this from his experience with his sister’s wedding two years ago, but once he was in the eye of the storm, he found himself clueless and without control.

Steve seemed to move easily with all the chaos, but Bucky was having a hard time. It was like a runaway train. All he wanted to do was marry Steve. Getting thrown into in the whirlwind business of wedding planning was not something he was enjoying.

“I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner. But I’m saying it now.”

Steve entwines their fingers. “Just make an honest man out of me, Bucky Barnes. That’s the only thing I want.”

“Me, too.”

Bucky leans in a kisses Steve; a soft, sweet kiss that makes the both of them grin wide.

“My ma is going to kill us.”

Bucky snorts. “Your ma? Mine will put a hit out on me.”

“Not to mention Natasha…”

“I’ll leave that for you to handle.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

Bucky may have the gall to throw Natasha Romanov out of their apartment, but he certainly doesn’t have the stones to tell her he and Steve are eloping. Not after all the hard work she’s put into helping them plan their nuptials.

Steve crawls in Bucky’s lap on the coffee table. “So, Sgt., what’s the plan?”

 

* * *

The plan is the two of them, Gabe Jones, Steve’s best friend, Sam Wilson, and Natasha on a [cliff](http://newenglandboating.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/The-Bluffs-MM.jpg) in Rhode Island, at midday, in their [dress blues](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_Service_Uniform) a week later.

Sam’s apparently an ordained minister; therefore, Gabe and Natasha act as witnesses.

“I’m just saying, some flowers would have been nice,” Natasha whispers to Steve.

“Let it go, Nat,” Steve whispers back sharply.

Bucky takes Steve’s hands into his. “I, Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, take you, Steven Grant Rogers, as you are. I love you unconditionally and without hesitation, and I vow to encourage you, trust you, and respect you. Today, I choose you to be my husband. I accept you as you are, and I offer myself in return. Steven, you are my best friend, and I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and grow with you. I will love you when we are together and when we are apart. I promise to support your dreams and to appreciate our differences, to love you and be by your side through all the days and nights of our lives.”

Steve’s too busy fighting back his own tears to notice the ones falling down Natasha’s face.

Sam smiles. “Steve.”

“I, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, take you, James Buchanan Barnes, as you are. I love you unconditionally and without hesitation, and I vow to encourage you, trust you, and respect you. Today, I choose you to be my husband. I accept you as you are, and I offer myself in return. Steven, you are my best friend, and I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and grow with you. I will love you when we are together and when we are apart. I promise to support your dreams and to appreciate our differences, to love you and be by your side through all the days and nights of our lives.”

“James, do you take Steven to be your lawfully wedding husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do,” Bucky answers.

Sam turns to Steve. “And do you, Steven, take thee James, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ‘til death do you part?”

“Yes. I do,” Steve replies.

“Beautiful. The rings, please,” Sam says.

Gabe hands Bucky Steve’s ring, a [simple silver band](https://www.etsy.com/listing/242664289/flat-profile-sterling-silver-band-ring?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=silver%20wedding%20band&ref=sr_gallery_33).

“Bucky. Repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Bucky repeats.

“Wear it as a symbol of my abiding love for you, and unyielding devotion to you, my husband.”

Bucky sniffles, eyes rimmed red with the threat of happy tears. “Wear it as a symbol of my abiding love for you, and unyielding devotion to you, my husband.”

Bucky slips the band onto Steve’s left ring finger.

Steve wants to kiss him. Kiss him until their lips are bruised and sting. Until they can’t possibly kiss each other anymore. He settles, however, for gently squeezing Bucky’s hand.

“Cap,” Sam smiles.

Natasha hands Steve a matching silver band.

“With this ring, I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of my abiding love for you, and unyielding devotion to you, my husband.”

“By the power vested in me, and the state of Rhode Island, I now pronounce you married. Go on and kiss your boy, Cap,” Sam grins happily.

Natasha and Gabe clap excitedly as Steve and Bucky press their lips together, smiling through their tears.

“I love you, jerk,” Steve says, whispering in Bucky’s ear.

“I love you, too, punk.”

»»»

“Watch.”

Bucky pulls on Steve’s hair, forcing him to look in the large mirror over the dresser. Bucky has him bent over it, sweaty and panting, as he stares at Bucky fucking him.

The dresser rattles and the mirror shakes. Steve presses a hand to the glass, holding it up, as to not crash down on them in a million hurtful shards.

Bucky, though, could care less. He keeps pounding into Steve, hard and deep. The grip he has on Steve’s hair keeps his eyes trained on Bucky through the glass while he gives it to him rough. Bucky’s biting his lip with each dirty thrust, grunting and digging his other hand into Steve’s hip, sure to leave bruises there by morning.

Steve loves when Bucky marks him with fingerprint bruises, teeth marks, rug burns, and hickeys. He loves tracing them with his fingers in the morning, smiling, remember how he got them the night before.

A few times he’s caught himself jerking off quietly in the bathroom, looking at them in the foggy mirror, like they were medals. And to him they are.

“Ah, Bucky… Feel so good…”

Steve wraps his hand around his throbbing, red cock, striping it viciously.

This is the fourth time they’ve gone at it today, and Steve’s surprised either of them still have the energy.

After their ceremony on the beach, the five of them went back to [Ocean House](http://www.oceanhouseri.com/) for an early dinner. Buck scarfed down his food, charged the meal to their suite, and dragged Steve up to their room without a word.

They were barely in the room before Bucky tore off Steve’s uniform, then his own.

The fireplace in the living room was going and Bucky took him slow but strong in front of it, whispering ‘I love yous’ in Steve’s ear, and nearly crying when he came inside him.

They fucked in the shower afterward. And once more atop the desk after sharing a bottle of red wine.

They were headed for bed when Bucky suddenly pinned Steve against the wall, kissing him sloppily, then pushing him over the dresser.

Steve would gladly make love to his husband on every surface of this room if that’s what he wanted.

“Come for me. Come on, Stevie. Come.”

Steve closes his eyes, feeling Bucky drag fast and relentless out of his hole, pressing hard on his prostate… “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!” Steve comes, all down his hand and wrist.

Bucky pulls him upward, his arm around Steve’s chest, and a tight hand clinching his jaw. He doesn’t stop slamming into Steve, looking at the two of them, their reflection in the mirror.

“You look so good, Stevie. God, you look good… I love fucking you, you know that? I’ve wanted you since we met… Your mine now. To fuck whenever I want.”

“Bucky, please. It’s too much!” Steve’s cock is still hard, slapping against his belly-button.

Bucky moves his other hand from Steve’s hip to his dick. Steve cries out. He’s too sensitive and Bucky’s touch feels like both pleasure and pain.

“Please, Bucky!”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You! God, only you, Buck!”

Bucky’s hand moves lower, fondling Steve’s balls. “I can’t live without you, Steve,” Bucky tells him, lips presses into Steve’s sweaty, left temple.

“You don’t have to… You don’t have to anymore…”

Bucky comes, shaking and moaning as loud as can be, filling Steve up with his cum. Steve follows, grabbing hold of the dresser in front of him with both hands, as his orgasm rips through him.

Bucky’s knees give out, and he crumbles to the floor, taking Steve with him. He holds him, trying to recover his breath.

Steve never wants him to let him go…

“I love that I get to do that with you for the next 60 years. Jesus…”

Steve smiles. “So, you think we’ll still be going at it like that until we’re ninety?”

“Of course. How could I ever keep my hands off you?”

Steve takes Bucky’s hand and kisses each knuckle. “This was a good idea, Buck. Eloping like this.”

“I have them sometimes,’ Bucky jokes.

Steve turns to face him. “Well, this was a great one.”

“I told you: I only want to make you happy. That’s the one thing I set out to do every day. Make Steve happy.”

“I’m over the moon, Bucky.”

Bucky runs his hand through Steve’s wet hair. “Nothing else I can do for you?”

Steve gives a sly grin.

“What?”

“Is it too early to talk kids?”

“How many you want,” Bucky asks with a smile.

Steve brightens, thrilled Bucky doesn’t shy away from the topic of children. “How many you gonna give me?”

“…Three.”

“Then three’s what I want.”

“Then three you shall have, Captain Rogers.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. We should probably get a house first though,” Bucky suggests.

“Oh, yeah. Where?”

Bucky shrugs. “Jersey.”

Steve snorts. “You hate New Jersey.”

“Great schools though.”

Steve buries his blushing face into Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s talking about buying a home in New Jersey and having kids that go to great schools. It’s everything he’s always wanted. He’s got a husband he loves more than his own life and they’re building something, a future together.

It’s all falling into place.

“Can we look at houses when we get back,” Steve asks.

“You mean before or after our mothers kill us for getting married without them,” Bucky asks.

Steve does care. He can’t care. He just got married to the love of his life and they’re going to buy a house. His ma could scream until she’s blue in the face, and it makes no nevermind to him. Steve refuses to feel guilty about how good he feels.

“After. Let ‘em rant. They’ll calm down once we bring up grandkids.”

“You think so, huh?”

Steve pecks him on his lips. “I know so.”

 


End file.
